


The New Name

by Lafaiette



Series: Solavellan Babies - Fenor and Ashera [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Love, Mama!Lavellan, Motherhood, Papa!Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6294031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His names have been many during the ages: betrayer, lonely hunter, bringer of nightmares and pain, trickster. Ugly, wicked words to hurt and ostracize him.</p><p>But this new one is good, pure and soft like <i>‘vhenan’</i>, simple and yet so powerful and rich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Name

**Author's Note:**

> It's Father's Day here, so what better chance than this to write some sweet Papa!Solas? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> [Fenor](http://lafaiette.tumblr.com/tagged/fenor) is Solas and [Scarlet](http://lafaiette.tumblr.com/scarletlavellan)'s firstborn.

Living with a child is a magical, endearing, exhausting experience.

Many of the battles they fought in the past look like mere picnics and trips to the country compared to the constant attention they need to pay when Fenor decides to crawl around the house.

They soon learned to hide away their old weapons and armors - and lock their chests, because Fenor is clever and knows how to open things despite his young age and tiny fingers.

They put the heaviest stuff - like magical artifacts, old tomes, and gifts - on top of the many bookshelves in the house; placed protective glyphs and barriers in the points where Fenor might bump his head; moved the sugar and other tasty food from the low cupboards in the kitchen after he learned what they contained and tried to eat everything.

His appetite, Solas thinks, is truly something remarkable, if not somewhat scary.

Even now, as he and Scarlet sit in front of the fireplace and Fenor plays with the stuffed animals she sewed for him, the child stops to fuss and ask for the sweet drink of milk and honey his mother prepared for him.

He babbles, crawling to their chair and raising his short arms, and Scarlet immediately gives him the bottle; she tries to pick him up to let him sit on her lap, but he wants to go back to his toys and so he does, bringing the bottle with him.

He takes only a few sips, the rich liquid streaming down a corner of his mouth, then he is distracted by the colorful, fuzzy plushes and starts playing with them again, the bottle waiting for him at his side.

Solas flips the next page of the book about children he has been studying in the last few days, looking for more reassurances. His spirit friends told him they saw such behavior in other babes too, that they believe it to be normal among the people of the waking world and that he and his wife have nothing to worry about.

Fenor looks happy and healthy: not excessively chubby, because elven babies rarely are, but florid and soft all the same, his cheeks crimson and plump like the apples growing in their garden. His hair, red like Scarlet’s, is getting long, fire-like locks that frame his cheerful face and his blue-gray eyes.

“Careful, I am going to steal him away sooner or later.” Dorian joked during one of his visits, after smooching him and talking to him in cooing tones inappropriate for a mighty magister, but perfect for his new role as an uncle.

He did put him inside his bag at the end of his visit, pretending not to hear the child’s giggles and ignoring Scarlet and Solas’ smirks.

“Well, then.” he said as Fenor’s head peeked out of the bag on his shoulders. He even grinned as he played with his hair. “I shall be going now. Kiss that beastie for me when you see him!”

It took them some time to convince Fenor to get out of there and say goodbye to his uncle.

Solas stops reading to observe his son and as usual the familiar sensation of bliss and accomplishment and _peace_ fills him to the brim, a sea of emotions that threatens to overwhelm him and make him shed tears of joy.

It happened many times before, when he still couldn’t believe this was real and truly happening: he cried during his marriage with Scarlet, some days after it, during her pregnancy, a few seconds after Fenor’s birth. He cried when he saw he had her same hair and his same eyes. He cried when he and Scarlet made love for the first time after her pregnancy.

He has been crying _a lot_ , but they have always been happy tears, opposed to the ones he cried in silence when the Inquisition still existed and he lived with the truth stuck in his throat and the heaviness of what he had to do anchored to his shoulders.

He smiles at Fenor gurgling at his stuffed animals, then turns to Scarlet, who is sewing a new quilt for the winter. Wolves, trees, and flowers are taking shape on it and he brushes his lips against the curve of her jaw.

She smiles, expertly handling the needle even with one arm only, and asks: “ _Vhenan_ , did you find out why our son eats like a little wolf?”

She squeals and laughs when he pinches her butt.

The sound makes Fenor turn and smile at them: he flails and shakes his hands, babbling some inarticulate sounds, and Solas’ heart melts when he sees the love written on Scarlet’s face.

“Come here, _da’fen_.” she says softly, leaning down and extending her hand. The child crawls to it and munches her fingers, drooling on them, and she manages to lift him up and put him on her lap with Solas’ help.

She places the needle on the table next to the armchair, knowing he would try to eat that too, then nuzzles his nose and kisses his face, eliciting happy giggles and sounds from him.

“Our little wolf.” she laughs with him and Solas feels the urge to go take his colors and canvas and draw this scene, immortalize it with warm, tender shades and all his love.

Motherhood made Scarlet even more beautiful: it fits her perfectly, her dream to have a family with him finally reality. Despite the novelty of all this - unlike anything they ever faced in the past -, Solas thinks they are doing a pretty good job.

His mind punctually reminds him of the first time he and Scarlet changed Fenor’s cotton diapers and he makes a funny face. There has been some… funny incidents, he admits.

“Should we go to a healer to make sure this is fine?” Scarlet asks when Fenor starts munching the strings of her dress. Motherly concern shines in her eyes, the anxiety of a first-time mother who still doesn’t know how certain things work.

And Solas, for all his wisdom and knowledge, feels inexperienced and panics as well sometimes.

They usually do that together and then find a solution or the right answer, like when they had no idea what to feed Fenor with after his weaning and studied different guides about children until dawn.

But as he looks at his wife and son, he feels they can do anything together and so he smiles.

“The books say it is normal. His first teeth are coming out, after all.” he reassures her and she sighs relieved. “Also, I suppose he just loves eating a lot. Your food is delicious, _vhenan_.”

He kisses her temple and watches her blush and smile happily: even after all these years, she still gets flustered by his compliments and sweet words.

She kisses him, grateful, and they smile at each other until Fenor demands their attention by tugging at her dress.

“Just wait until you can eat hearth cakes, _da’fen_!” she says, kissing his forehead. “Mamae and Papae will make them for you.”

And then the most wondrous of things happens.

“Mam…” Fenor babbles, his pink cheeks glowing in the sunlight. “Mamae.”

Silence falls in the quiet room: only the birds outside and the crackling of the fire are audible.

Solas stares at the child with big eyes, frozen, still, similar to a statue; Scarlet is barely breathing, her eyes even larger than his if possible, and her hand holding Fenor’s is trembling.

Then her face splits into a huge smile and she gasps in delight.

“Solas!” she cries out, almost bouncing on his lap. “Solas, he spoke!”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even blink; he looks at the child with his heart thundering in his ears, deafening him, and every part of his body is numb, as if lightning is flowing through it.

“Say it again, _da’fen_! Say ‘Mamae’!”

“Mamae!” Fenor promptly responds and her joy is contagious, because he laughs and giggles into her chest as she hugs him.

“Now,” she says, her smile bigger and brighter than before, moving him so he can look at Solas, “say ‘Papae’! ‘Pa-pa-e’!”

Solas tenses up, sure his heart is about to explode. Every breath comes out slowly, almost painfully, and the only thing he can see is Fenor’s eyes and his copper hair surrounded by a halo of light entering from the windows.

Fenor smiles at him and reaches for his face: his fingertips touch his cleft chin and he opens his mouth.

“Pa-pa-e.” he says. “Papae!”

His names have been many during the ages: betrayer, lonely hunter, bringer of nightmares and pain, trickster. Ugly, wicked words to hurt and ostracize him.

But this new one is good, pure and soft like ‘ _vhenan_ ’, simple and yet so powerful and rich.

He starts crying quietly, big tears rolling down his cheeks as he pulls Scarlet and Fenor into his arms and rests his cheek on the baby’s fluffy head.

Scarlet’s hand and lips caress his face and their child laughs, pressed into their embrace; Solas feels him chew the fabric of his sweater and lets out a chuckle-snort.

As he pulls away - not much, never much, just enough to see his wife and child better -, he notices Scarlet’s eyes bright with tears of joy and her smile, proud and happy for him. He kisses her, once, twice, thrice, each kiss a renewed promise of love and adoration, then looks back at Fenor.

“Papae!” he calls and Solas rests his forehead against his, his smile broadening when he touches his cheeks and gurgles.

“Yes, _da’fen_.” he says softly. “I am Papae.”

And it’s a name he will always carry with pride and love.


End file.
